Chapter 34 #2
He’s warm to the touch, in sharp contrast to the bitter gust whirling around our joined hands.
He holds on longer than I expect, fingers brushing my palm as he finally pulls away.
Heat pulses through my veins in response.
Despite the wind, a warm cedar scent rolls off him, and I’m not sure I want to know what my scent says about me.
I swallow hard and lead the way to the back door. The hinges creak—a reminder I haven’t oiled recently—but it opens readily.
“You don’t keep it locked?” Corin’s following close enough that his breath warms my ears.
“I try, but most of the time, there doesn’t seem to be a point.
” We enter the kitchen to a demonstration of why I don’t bother, although the person facing us, Sidney, is seventeen and the eldest of my twins’ siblings, rather than whom I expected: Gloria, my co-parent who theoretically holds my spare key safe and sacred.
In reality, she lets the kids use it whenever she feels like it.
“You’re out of apple chips, Dad.” Sidney slams a drawer shut as they turn to face us, giving me a brief smile in passing, but focusing on Corin.
They take a broad stance, sizing him up, scruffy tennis shoes planted firm on the blue tiled floor.
Their posture gives their ragged, slashed jeans and matching long-sleeved t-shirt an almost-businesslike air.
“The grocery store delivery comes Monday—and what are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have school?
” If set side by side with my biological children, it’s possible to trace differences in facial features and actual body lines.
Otherwise, seeing Sidney always offers a visceral memory of when the twins were their age, for they all share their mother’s overall appearance with long, wavy black hair usually kept in one or two braids, tawny skin with ocher undertones, and hardly a straight line anywhere on their bodies.
“Nope. Teacher service day.”
“At least Deborah and Derrick are still at work.” I turn to Corin, mouth twisting to one side in a failed attempt to hide amusement at the way the universe has upended our plans. “It’s a small mercy that you’re only facing their oldest sibling. This is Sidney. Sid, Corin—a friend of mine. Be nice.”
“Nice work, Dad,” Sidney gives Corin a once-over, probably thinking they’re being discreet. Then, they wink at me, offering their hand to Corin, who shakes it without qualm. “But rumor says he’s more than a friend.”
“‘Rumor’ being Deborah. Who do you think bribed us to come check things out since she has to work, anyway?” Vera appears in the door between kitchen, a slightly smaller and three-years-younger version of Sidney, though the end of her braid is ragged where she regularly chews it.
“This is Vera,” I tell Corin, who calmly shakes her hand as well.
“The younger twins are confined to their room until after lunch for bad behavior, or they’d be here too,” Vera says, smiling shyly up at Corin.
“Younger twins?” Corin asks, a hint of an unexpected dimple flickering in his cheek as he turns to me.
“‘The twins’ means Deborah and Derrick. The ‘younger twins’ are their youngest siblings, Keen and Karr, and they’re ...” I search for an acceptable word.
“Hellions,” Gloria says dryly from the doorway behind us. Corin and I both start, not having heard her approach.
His gaze flickers from her to her children.
The resemblance clear is although Gloria is mature version, well settled into her curves and accepting the slow invasion of gray into her hair.
We have no sexual interest in each other whatsoever these days.
Even so, I can appreciate the picture she offers, all curves and hills and valleys.
She jerks her head at Sidney and Vera.
They nod and slip out of the room, Sidney turning to wave good-bye and give a cheeky “Nice knowing you, Corin.”
“You must be Gloria. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Corin offers his hand again.
“And you’re Corin, one of the three interested in Dan.” She looks him up and down. Certain elements of her expression hint at admiration, but one has to know her to notice. Her poker face has developed over years of studying her reflection—I’ve caught her at it on occasion.
They shake hands; then, Gloria steps back and gives him a level glare.
“You think you deserve Dan in your pack?”
“Ah—” I try to intervene, for I meant Corin coming to my house as a test, not an inquisition.
Gloria raises a finger my way, shooting me a straight glance.
“As the mother of your children, it is my privilege to ensure you’re treated right.
Do you disagree?” Her almost non-existent scent flares slightly, a curl of hyacinth, but quickly dissipates.
“And, given how long you interrogated Paul, you don’t have much of a leg to stand on. ”
I turn to Corin and shrug. “I tried.”
“So I see.” His lips pull to the side in a crooked smile, and he faces Gloria directly. “What exactly do you need to know?”
“I don’t understand the appeal of packs myself, but I accept that they offer things to others.” Gloria folds her hands and rests them on her belly. “What do you offer Dan?”
“I grew up in a pack, but I’ve never been in one myself, so I’m still learning,” Corin replies.
“Pack is hands to brace you when you slip, arms to hold you when you need a place to hide, a mirror to show you the best and worst of yourself, people with whom to rejoice or offer and receive shelter in a storm.”
“So is marriage, for better or worse.” Gloria shrugs. “But what do you, personally, offer Dan?”
Air whistles as Corin takes a deep breath, standing taller, his chin raised, face set in a polite-but-formidable expression. “That’s between him and me. When we have that settled, if he wishes, we may share it with you then.”
“Now that is a respectable answer, much better than your pseudo poetry about packs.” She turns to me.
“I won’t say I approve or disapprove—that’s not my place—but I wish you well regardless.
As for you,” She shifts back to Corin without taking a breath.
“Good luck, and I’ll keep my children away for the rest of your visit. This time.”
“No threats?” Corin asks, a hint of amusement in his voice, but his gaze wary.
“No need.” Gloria’s poker face falls away, and she grins, eyes twinkling.
“I think Dan’s capable of making his own decisions.
He deserves more than he’s received in life thus far.
” She pats my shoulder, and her half-smile suggests I’m blushing.
My cheeks are certainly hot enough. “Just remember; if he chooses you, the rest of us come with him in some measure. We love him and will never let that go.”
She leaves with as little fuss as she arrived. There’s much more air in the room once it’s just the two of us. My alpha sits easier with her gone, able to focus solely on Corin. His presence here fascinates my inner self in a way I hadn’t expected.
Corin stares at the door Gloria left through for several breaths.
At length, he turns to face me, far more at ease than I’ve seen.
“When I invited you to consider becoming a pack with us, it was for Johanna’s sake, yet now your family’s love for you is fierce and beautiful.
All three came to take my measure and see that I care for you as they believe you deserve.
I want to know the man who earned that.”
He approaches, and my alpha lets him lead, curious and not sure what to expect.
Corin stops close enough to touch, though he doesn’t. Every exhale is warm against my cheek, redolent of sun-warmed cedar. My scent rises as well, twining with his to make the kitchen smell of a deep, endless forest.
“Silence is never assent unless we agree on it beforehand,” Corin raises a hand toward my face, but stops an inch away. “May I touch you? Kiss you?”
He’s leading, taking the dominant role. There’s clearly no question in his mind regarding his place vis-à-vis me and my alpha: that he’s the stronger. Or, no—rather, that his strength would win out if we did fight. There’s a difference; the strongest dominants don’t always win.
Sometimes we don’t want to. Strength and dominance can be burdens.
My alpha accepts Corin’s approach with unexpected ease, even relief. My rational self finds the lack of tension in my alpha, his welcoming Corin’s lead, oddly seductive.
Nathan may not yet be clear on who will be the lead alpha among us—or perhaps he’s not ready to accept it.
But my alpha is.
Corin is stable, solid, safe. Being around him makes my alpha feel grounded. Rooted, perhaps, given our matching woodsy scents. I don’t need to challenge Corin, and my alpha doesn’t want to.
“Permission granted,” I say.
“Likewise, you may touch and kiss at will.” Corin’s hand curves along the edge of my jaw. His thumb rubs the hollow of my cheek, tracing the line of bone under eye. He leans in slowly, allowing me time to draw away if I choose.
His warm lips taste of wood and apples as they slip along mine, sipping and nipping. He keeps the kiss light and gentle, the first step in a dance, rather than rushing to the finale.
My alpha relaxes further in a way I haven’t felt since ever? Maybe I’ve been dating the wrong people. Instead of restricting myself to betas, I should have looked for a strong, dominant alpha.
And then I can’t think. Reason and instinct unite in responding to Corin’s lips on mine, following where he leads, accompanied by a heavenly violin strain.
I realize at the same time as Corin that the music is real—and comes from his phone.
“It’s Johanna.” He pulls away, gaze dazed but hand already retrieving his phone from a pocket.
The instant the call connects, Johanna’s desperate voice calls across the distance.
“Nathan’s going into rut!”